


Always Wanted to Be a Fireman

by zahnie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Canonical Character Death, Drinking, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, Fire, Gen, John Winchester's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 12:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14449365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahnie/pseuds/zahnie
Summary: AU where John Winchester left his kids with friends of the family and never told them about Hunting and Dean always had a home and became a firefighter.Not that all this ultimately changes much...





	Always Wanted to Be a Fireman

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greenmonstermash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenmonstermash/gifts).



> There is a throwaway line in Supernatural 1.22 'Devil's Trap' where Dean says, "I always wanted to be a fireman when I grew up." and Sam says, "You never told me that."
> 
> I was rewatching the episode because of greenmonstermash and so, this fic is for her. <3
> 
> This has been another whirlwind fic experience for me. Wednesday morning, I woke up with this idea. It's Thursday evening now :D

The phone wakes him up. Dean groans. He didn't get in until three last night because of a false alarm right before his shift ended.

He answers the phone without checking who it is. “Hello?”

“Dean.” Sam is almost crying, and after only the one word, Dean is already planning how to get to Stanford.

“What's wrong? What happened?” Dean asks.

“Jess...” Sam chokes back a sob. Dean has never wished he could teleport more than in this moment. “She's dead, Dean. There was a fire and... I just... Can you come get me?”

“Already on my way, Sammy,” Dean says.

\---

Dad always said, “Look after your brother.” Every time he visited when they were kids, that was his exit line to Dean. Dean hadn't needed the reminder.

This is why he lives only two and half hours from Stanford. This is why he stayed in Kansas until Sam was ready for college. Just in case.

Sometimes he hates being right.

\---

The remains of Sam's building are still smoldering when Dean gets there. Dean's first thought is that it looks like arson. It burned hot and hard, from the inside.

Sam is sitting on a bench nearby, a grey wool blanket like the paramedics use around him, watching the fire crews soak the nearby buildings just in case. He looks up as Dean stops beside him. “You made good time,” he says, standing up and letting the blanket fall off.

“Are you hurt? Are you burned? How's your breathing?” Dean asks. Sam didn't say on the phone but the blanket means he was _in_ the building when it went up.

“Always on the job,” Sam says, smiling a little.

Dean hugs him. He smells like smoke. Sam clings to him like they're little kids and Dean's comforting him after a nightmare. “It's okay,” Dean says, automatically.

Sam pulls back. “It's really not,” he says.

Dean can't argue with that. “How did it happen?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head. “It sounds too crazy. I'll tell you later.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean says. “You got anything you gotta do here before we go?”

Sam looks around. “I... I don't know.”

“When was your meeting for?”

“Dean, that doesn't matter anymore,” Sam says, the uncertainty in his voice replaced by impatience.

“Of course it still matters. You can reschedule.” This isn't what they should be half-arguing about right now but Dean can't seem to stop himself. It's tragic but if there's one thing he's learned fighting fires, it's that you have to keep living your life. Terrible shit happens. You have to keep going.

“They know by now I almost died. They won't be expecting me.”

Dean's heart lurches. “You almost _died_?”

Sam sighs. “I'm fine. Somebody pulled me out.”

“Somebody pulled you out,” Dean repeats.

“Yeah, I didn't see who it was. Not a firefighter. They weren't here yet.”

That call earlier could have been from the school, telling Dean that Sam had been burned alive. He can picture it. Even the idea is almost more than he can handle. He takes a deep breath. “But you're okay?” he asks.

“No. I... I don't think I'm ever going to be okay again,” Sam says.

Any other time, Dean would tell him to stop being melodramatic. But this is the kind of thing that can scar you for life. They both know that already.

"Well, let's go then," Dean says.

Sam turns to take one last look at the half-collapsed building. They leave the blanket on the bench and head towards Dean's car.

\---

They get drunk because Dean couldn't think of anything else to do. Not a good coping mechanism. Dean tries to avoid getting drunk most of the time. Tipsy, sure. Drunk, no. Dad is almost certainly an alcoholic. That's the most likely reason on Dean's list of why he didn't take his kids on the road with him.

Not that living with Fred and Julie wasn't okay. Julie had been Mom's best friend. She'd told Dean the story with more details when he was older. “When you three showed up on our doorstep, I just about had a heart attack. It was the middle of the night and you were all covered in soot, nothing but the clothes on your backs and Sammy's blanket.” Dad had asked if he could leave the kids with her and Fred for a while, until he could figure everything out. “We loved having you, always,” Julie had told him. “But you know, it was hard. Never knowing when he was coming back and if it'd be for a two hour visit or to take you both away forever.” Finally, when Dean was six and Sam was two, Julie had put her foot down. “I told your father we had to have some guardian rights for you two. I'd never ask him to give you up to us entirely. But getting you into school was hard enough without having to wait weeks for him to come back to sign papers.” Dean hardly remembers it now but he'd stopped talking for a while after Mom's death.

Dean has to make sure Sammy talks to a therapist. The department has made Dean go a few times, after really bad fires. He hadn't wanted to, but really, it's a relief to talk to somebody who's heard worse than what you're telling them. Or pretends really well anyway.

They're still in Palo Alto. When they'd gotten to the car, Sam hadn't wanted to go far yet. Dean got them a room at a cheapish motel out past the fancy houses.

There are things they should be doing instead of just drinking in their room. Sam doesn't have any clothes for tomorrow, for one thing. Nothing of Dean's has fit him since just after puberty made him a giant.

Tomorrow, Dean will deal with everything. Right now, Sam needs him not to talk about the future.

“I'd been ignoring her,” Sam says. “Focussing on getting ready for my interview. So stupid.” He gulps the rest of the tequila from his glass and holds it out to Dean for more.

Dean pours it for him. They're sitting between the two beds on the motel carpet, drinking out of water glasses. “You didn't know. It isn't your fault,” he says, like he's been saying different ways all day.

This time, it seems like Dean's words sink in. Sam laughs. “I did though. I did know.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam finishes his glass before saying quietly, “I dreamed it. Before it happened.”

Dean doesn't know what to say. He starts talking anyway. “But—”

Sam cuts him off. “ _Exactly_ how it happened. She was...” He trails off and looks at his empty glass.

Dean is not giving him any more alcohol. “What happened?” he asks again, trying to sound calm and like he's ready for Sam to tell him. He only met Jess a few times but he liked her. She loved Sam and that was all that really mattered to Dean.

“I came into our bedroom. Didn't see her at first. She was... on the ceiling.”

Dean must be drunker than he thought he was. “On the ceiling?” he asks.

Sam finally looks at him, angry, unshed tears in his eyes. “Yes. I felt something hit me and I looked up and she was on the ceiling, bleeding down onto me. Then...” He swallows. “Then the fire burst out and covered her. It was burning everything. I couldn't believe it. I just...” He stops.

“Where did the fire come from?” Dean asks.

“I don't know!” Sam snaps. “I know it sounds crazy but that's what happened!”

“Okay, okay,” Dean says. He believes Sam. There's something horribly familiar about what he's saying but Dean can't quite figure it out. Something about... “Fucking hell,” Dean whispers and puts his head in his hands.

Mom. Mom was on the ceiling.

“I'm telling the truth,” Sam says, reaching for the tequila bottle. Dean doesn't stop him from pouring another glass.

He has to call Dad.

Dean stands up, stumbling a little on his numb feet.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks.

Dean fumbles his phone out of his coat. His hands are shaking as he finds the right contact.

Dad's phone rings twice and goes to voicemail. Of course.

“Where's your phone?” he asks Sam.

“Why?” Sam asks, glaring.

“Because Dad will pick up if it's you calling,” Dean says, and then winces. He wouldn't have said that if he was sober.

Sam stares at him. “What are you talking about? He answers the phone when you call.”

He answers when Dean calls him _back_ and he always says something sharp about how Dean is always at work. Dean manages not to say that. It's a huge effort so he sits down on one of the beds. “Please,” he says.

Sam starts to stand up but he doesn't make it all the way, his feet sliding out from under him like he's on an ice rink. He gets the phone out of his pocket anyway and tosses it to Dean.

Dad picks up after one ring. “Sammy? How'd the meeting go?” he asks.

“Dad, it's Dean. Tell me the truth: was Mom on the ceiling the night she died?”

Sam gasps.

There's a long silence. Finally, Dad asks, “Where are you? Is Sammy with you?”

“He's here, sir,” Dean says, and offers the phone to Sam. Sam shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dean keeps talking. “There was a fire today. Sam's okay but Jess isn't. Sam just told me what happened and I... I remembered.”

Dad lets out a long breath. “There's something you boys should know.”

“Then, tell me, please,” Dean says, trying to be forceful but still polite enough to satisfy Dad.

“There are... monsters in the world,” Dad says, cryptically.

“What, like a serial killer?” Dean asks.

“Like a demon,” Dad says.

“What?” Dean has so many questions but that one sums all of them up.

“Dean, I've been hunting down the thing that killed your mom for more than 20 years. Along the way, I've hunted other monsters. I wanted to keep you boys out of it but... looks like it's out of my hands now.”

Dean has no words for how fucked up and completely insane that sounds.

Sam reaches for the phone. Dean gives it to him and lays down on the bed, feeling simultaneously the most drunk and the most sober he's ever been.

Dad must be telling Sam the same crazy bullshit because Sam is sounding more and more freaked out. “Dad, that's... are you telling me that the same demon-thing killed Jess _and_ Mom?”

Dean tunes out of listening for a minute because he just can't deal with this right now. Sam shakes him some time later, and he must have fallen asleep somehow. “What?” he asks, half-sitting up and leaning on one elbow.

“Dad's coming here,” Sam says. “He's going to prove to us that this supernatural stuff is real.”

“How?”

Sam shrugs. “I have no idea.”

“When?”

“By morning, he says. He's out of state.”

He's almost always out of state. Dad's allergy to Kansas has spread to California since Sam and Dean moved here four years ago.

“Well, I guess we go to sleep then,” Dean says.

“How can you sleep at a time like this?” Sam cries. “This could change everything. I could find out about how I dreamt Jess' death, we could get the thing that killed her and Mom. We could maybe even...” Sam trails off.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Sounds like you already believe him.”

“What's the alternative, Dean? That I'm crazy and so is he? That I somehow _made_ this happen.”

Dean sits the all way up. “Oh, hell no, you did not make this happen.”

Sam has tears in his eyes again. “What if I did?”

“No,” Dean says, decisively.

“If this is real, if there's really a thing that killed Jess out there somewhere,” Sam says, “I'm going to find it and kill it.”

“If this is real,” Dean says, “I'll help you.”


End file.
